...just stumbled
at this record
in your glossary:
neither time
nor money…
while love
blossomed
in between
the lines,
trembling voice,
caressed eyes,
blessed seconds,
the gesture
beckoned…
until the moment,
vanished
into dusk,
when time
separated
us
for centuries
we’re anchored,
connected
on distance
through the space
as if satellites,
despite
the money,
in-tense...
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Wednesday, May 29, 2013
In-tense
Labels:
Poetry
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Many anchors about like the spin you brought out.
ReplyDeletesometimes we have to wait til the right time for love to bloom...and sometimes the anchors keep us where we need to be til ready...smiles.
ReplyDeleteThanks for comments, Pat, and Brian,
ReplyDeletewhat the wise advice!